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For The Sake Of His Heir
Joanne Rock
A paper marriage to the billionaire boss!A marriage of convenience is decidedly inconvenient for Brianne Hanson when the groom is her sexy boss! Resisting Gabe and his baby was already tough, but now they’re sharing a bed!


When a marriage of convenience is the only answer…things get inconvenient
Gabe McNeill is done being manipulated. By everyone from his ex-wife who abandoned him and their baby to the grandfather forcing him to remarry. Now the only way Gabe can ensure his son’s inheritance is if Brianne Hanson agrees to be his bride. They’ve always kept things strictly business and this is no different…until she falls into his bed and all bets are off!
Four-time RITA® Award nominee JOANNE ROCK has penned over seventy stories for Mills & Boon. An optimist by nature and a perpetual seeker of silver linings, Joanne finds romance fits her life outlook perfectly—love is worth fighting for. A former Golden Heart® Award recipient, she has won numerous awards for her stories. Learn more about Joanne’s imaginative Muse by visiting her website, www.joannerock.com (http://www.joannerock.com), or following @joannerock6 (http://twitter.com/@joannerock6) on Twitter.
Also available by Joanne Rock
His Secretary’s Surprise Fiancé
Secret Baby Scandal
The Magnate’s Mail-Order Bride
The Magnate’s Marriage Merger
His Accidental Heir
Little Secrets: His Pregnant Secretary
Claiming His Secret Heir
Visit millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) for more information
For the Sake of His Heir
Joanne Rock


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07616-6
FOR THE SAKE OF HIS HEIR
© 2018 Joanne Rock
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For my Writerspace family, Cissy Hartley,
Celeste Faurie, Susan Simpson and
Degan Outridge. Working with you all has been
a bright spot in my career. You’re awesome
all the time, but especially on the days when
I’m tearing my hair out and feeling overwhelmed.
Thank you for the help, the support and making
me feel like I always have a team behind me.
Contents
Cover (#u90f68a81-6a87-5586-9336-ddcfb729d8c8)
Back Cover Text (#uc70bedf5-960e-5cb1-a3a9-fdcad4f0ce8d)
About the Author (#u47a8e9e4-70fa-50c3-baa7-2eca411c0aee)
Booklist (#u3fd0e320-6ebf-5feb-b82a-33373bb772a7)
Title Page (#uf635a9e0-4437-5940-9ebf-40d3baabf84c)
Copyright (#u2fa248da-39ce-51b7-8079-348b657ac343)
Dedication (#uf9903136-b262-53b5-ba74-f8c475ed2e53)
One (#u39e9a0b1-042d-5b27-adc7-12e2b447694c)
Two (#ua4a9002b-d918-5004-9717-2c3172cba070)
Three (#u137fe41b-ea63-5cc5-b671-71b9dbfd186d)
Four (#ud00998ea-1cf1-5ea1-8b32-e99610b0b69c)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
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Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#u9945bf98-7f25-52d8-b020-e0731532b2bf)
Brianne Hanson’s crush on her boss had died a swift and brutal death when he’d walked down the aisle with another woman. And she hadn’t even dreamed of resurrecting it after his extremely unhappy divorce. She would never want to be that rebound fling a man lived to regret.
But every now and then, the old spark came back to burn her. Like today.
She’d just taken a break from her work in the gardens of Gabe’s resort, the Birdsong Hotel, in Martinique. As a landscape designer, Brianne had worked on dozens of island properties before Gabe convinced her to take on the Birdsong as a full-time gig a year ago. It was a job she loved since she had carte blanche to design whatever she wanted on Gabe’s considerable budget. He was committed to the project and shared her basic aesthetic vision, so they got along just fine. All business, boundaries in place.
Today, however, was different. She’d stopped by his workshop in a converted shed to ask him about his plans for upgrading the entrance to one of the bungalows. The resort grounds were a never-ending labor of love for Gabe, a talented woodworker who spent his free time handcrafting ceiling panels and restoring custom cabinets.
And damn if she wasn’t caught by the pull of that old crush as she stood on the threshold of the workshop. The dust extractor hummed in the background, cleaning the air of particles kicked up by the table saw he’d just been using. Gabe was currently laboring over a curved piece of wood clamped down to another table, running a hand planer over the surface. This segment of wood—a molding destined for a curved archway in the lobby, she knew—was at least five feet long. Gabe shaved the length of it with the shallow blade, drawing the scraper toward him again and again while wood bits went flying.
Intent on his work, Brianne’s six-foot-plus boss stared down at the mahogany piece through his safety goggles, giving her time to enjoy the view of male muscle in motion. He was handsome enough any day of the week, as his dark hair and ocean-blue eyes were traits he shared with his equally attractive older brothers. The McNeill men had caused plenty of female heads to turn throughout Martinique and beyond, since their wealth and business interests extended to New York and Silicon Valley. But Gabe was unique among his brothers for his down-to-earth, easygoing ways, and his affinity for manual labor.
With the door to his workshop open, a sea breeze swirled through the sawdust-scented air. Gabe’s white T-shirt clung to his upper back, highlighting bands of muscle that ran along his shoulder blades. His forearms were lightly coated with a sheen of sweat and wood dust, which shouldn’t have been sexy, or so she told herself. But the strength there was testament to the physical labor he did every day. His jeans rode low on narrow hips, thanks in part to the weight of a tool belt.
And just like that, her temperature went from garden-variety warm to scorching. So much for kicking the crush.
“Hey, Brianne.” He turned a sudden, easy smile her way as he put aside the blade, leaving the plank tilted in the brace he’d made to support it. “What can I do for you?”
He shoved the safety glasses up into his dark hair, revealing those azure-blue eyes. Then he leaned over to the abandoned table saw and switched off the dust extractor. As he strode closer, she sternly reminded herself ogling time was over. She needed to keep her paychecks coming now that the last of her dysfunctional family had deserted her grandmother back in Brooklyn. Brianne owed everything—her work ethic, her life in Martinique, her very sanity—to the woman who’d given her a chance at a better life away from the painful dramas at home. As her grandmother became more frail, Brianne hoped to relocate Nana to the Caribbean to care for her.
Besides, complicating matters more? Gabe McNeill had become her closest friend.
“Hey.” Forcing a smile to mask any leftover traces of feminine yearning, Brianne tried to remember why she’d come to the workshop in the first place. “Sorry to interrupt. I thought you might be ready to break for lunch and I wanted to see if you had a minute to walk me through your plans for bungalow two.”
He unfastened his tool belt and hung it on a hook near the workbench.
“You mean the Butterfly Bungalow?” he teased, winking at her and nudging her shoulder with his as he walked past.
She’d been resistant to using the names Gabe’s new promotions company had assigned to all the suites and villas on the property since they made the hotel sound more like a touristy amusement park.
“Right. Butterfly Boudoir. Whatever.” She had to hurry to catch up with him as he headed there now, his long-legged stride carrying him far even though he wasn’t moving fast.
Gabe never moved fast.
It was one of the qualities that made him an excellent woodworker. He had a deliberate way of doing things, slow and thoughtful, because he gave each task his undivided attention. Tourists who stayed at the resort chalked it up to Gabe being on “island time.” But Brianne knew him better than that. He was actually very dialed in. Intense. He just put a charming face on it.
“Let’s stop at the main house.” Gabe shifted direction on the planked walkways that connected disparate parts of the property and provided the framework for her garden designs. “I’ve got a drawing you can take with you to see what I have in mind for the bungalow.”
He passed two empty cabins in need of upgrades as he approached the back door of the Birdsong Hotel’s central building, which housed ten units with terraces overlooking the Atlantic. The dark-tiled mansard roof with dormers was a nod to the historic French architecture of the island. The rest of the building was white clapboard with heavy gray shutters and louvers over the windows—the shutters were decorative unless a hurricane came, and then they could be employed for safety measures. The louvers, another historic feature of many of the houses in downtown Fort-de-France, the island’s capital, could be used for extra shade.
“I don’t want to plant anything in the front garden that will be in the way of the redesign.” Brianne knew better than to think that an upgrade for Gabe only meant a couple of new windows or a better door. She loved seeing the way the buildings took shape with him guiding the redesign, the thoughtful details he included that made each building unique. Special.
She liked to think they made a great team. Her gardens were like the decorative frames for his work, drawing attention to the best features.
“This project is going to be more streamlined.” He brushed away some of the dust on his shirt, then pulled open the screen door on a private entrance in back that led to his office and downstairs suite. “I was planning on talking to you today about some changes in my plans. I’m going to hand off some of the remodel to a contractor.”
He held the screen door open for her, waiting for her to step inside. She could see his eleven-month-old son, Jason, seated in a high chair. The boy’s caregiver, Ms. Camille, bustled around the small kitchen reserved for Gabe’s use. The expansive one-bedroom unit was larger than most. Gabe kept a villa of his own at the farthest edge of the resort and only needed this space for a centrally located office and day care, so it provided plenty of space.
“A contractor?” She must have misunderstood. “You’ve been personally handling every detail of this remodel for two years because it’s your hotel and you’re the best on the island. I don’t understand.”
“Come in.” He gently propelled her forward, one hand on the middle of her back while he waved a greeting to the caregiver with the other. “Ms. Camille, I’ve got Jason if you want some lunch.”
The older woman nodded. “Be en garde, Monsieur Gabriel,” she said, her native French thick in her accent as she passed Gabe a stack of mail. “Our sweet Jason is in a mischievous mood.”
Brianne’s gaze went to the dark-haired boy strapped in his high chair, his bare toes curling and butt bouncing at the sight of his father. Two little teeth gleamed in an otherwise gummy grin. Dressed in striped blue shorts and a bright blue T-shirt, the boy banged a fat spoon against his tray.
“I’m on it,” Gabe assured her, bending to kiss the baby’s forehead, a gesture that clutched at Brianne’s heart, making her wonder how Jason’s mother could ever abandon him—the child or the father, for that matter.
Theresa Bauder had lived among them for all of six months. She was a beautiful, gifted songstress Gabe met when she’d given up on her dreams to Martinique after a frustrating three years of trying to make it in the music business. Brianne had been envious of everything about the woman, from her eye-popping beauty and natural elegance, to her clear, sweet singing voice on nights when she performed with her acoustic guitar out on the beach.
The fact that Theresa had also landed—in Brianne’s opinion—the most eligible of the McNeill men was also enviable. But then, when the woman was expecting Jason, she’d gotten a call from her former manager back in Nashville. A top country artist wanted to perform one of Theresa’s songs. Even more exciting, the artist was in talks to do a movie about her life, and wanted Theresa to come out to Los Angeles to play a younger version of her in the film. Theresa left. Her home, her husband, her marriage. To hear the local gossips, Gabe had only gone to LA with her to wait for his son to be born since Theresa had also decided she didn’t want to be a mother with a career heating up. Gabe had said little about it, but he’d returned to Martinique with his son when Jason was just four weeks old.
Brianne took a turn kissing the boy’s head, too, as she’d become good buddies with the little one over the last ten months. “How are you today, cutie?” she asked him, her heart melting when Jason gave her a drooly grin. She spotted one of his toys on the counter—a fat green dinosaur—and perched it on the edge of his lunch tray, hopping it closer to him.
“There’s something for you, Brianne.” Gabe plucked a small envelope off the stack of letters Camille had handed him before setting the rest of the resort’s mail in a wooden tray near the door. “Looks like it’s from home.”
“Thanks.” She saw the return address in Nana’s familiar handwriting and hoped everything was okay with her grandmother. Distracted, she forgot about her dinosaur game with Jason until the boy poked at the toy.
Dutifully, she made the figure hop around his lunch tray while she considered the letter from her grandmother.
“And sorry to spring it on you like this that I’m leaving.” Gabe reached into the kitchen’s stainless-steel refrigerator and withdrew two bottles of water, passing one to her. “That’s why I’m handing off some of the projects to a local contractor. I need to finish up a few more of the bungalows to accommodate the increase in visitors, but I’m taking Jason to New York and I’m not sure when we’ll return.”
“You’re leaving?” She squeezed the water bottle without opening it, the cold condensation chilling her palms while a wave of disappointment washed over her.
Old crush on Gabe aside, she liked him. Considered him her best friend. He’d given her an amazing opportunity when he’d hired her to design the gardens at the Birdsong, a long-term project that gave her stability and allowed her to be creative. It was a far better job than the temporary gigs she’d been hired for prior to this. She’d met him while helping another landscaper revamp the historic gardens at McNeill Meadows plantation home. Gabe had been building an arbor for his family’s expansive compound in Le François. He’d been planning his wedding back then, so she’d ignored the attraction and concentrated on impressing him professionally.
“Yes. I’m going to New York to spend some time with my grandfather.” Gabe rifled through a kitchen drawer and pulled out a small sheet of paper, then he ambled over to the round table in the breakfast nook with a view of the ocean. “Have a seat, Brianne.”
He pulled out a curved wicker chair for her near the open French doors that led to a side patio shaded by a tall acacia tree. The temperature in Martinique didn’t vary much, but on a February day like this, it was less humid and there was a breeze off the water. Brianne never tired of the beautiful weather here after the cold, desperate winters of her childhood in Brooklyn.
“Your grandfather. You mean Malcolm McNeill?” She’d followed news about his wealthy family online, from the disappearance of his sister-in-law, heiress Caroline Degraff, to the revelation that he had a connection to McNeill Resorts’ wealthy owner, Malcolm McNeill. Gabe’s mother had been Liam McNeill’s mistress. Liam had fathered three children by her but then abandoned them when Gabe was just eleven years old. Liam had been married to someone else at that time, and had three legitimate sons based in Manhattan.
“That’s right.” Gabe drew Jason’s high chair closer to the table, earning more gummy grins from his son and another round of spoon banging. “I have a good life here and I’m happiest working on the Birdsong, but I keep thinking it’s not fair to limit Jason’s future to this place when he’s an heir to the McNeill legacy.”
The thought of her world without Gabe in it unsettled her. She liked working with him. For him. She didn’t want to think about how empty the Birdsong would be without him. And Jason. Her gaze went to the boy, as she thought about all the impromptu lunches they’d had together.
“Are you moving there permanently?” She tried not to let the unexpected swell of emotions show in her voice.
Gabe gave his son a sectioned tray with some sliced-up toast pieces and carrots. Withdrawing the toy dinosaur so as not to distract the baby from his lunch, Brianne clutched it tighter.
“No.” He swung into the chair next to her, keeping Jason between them. “Just until I can learn more about the McNeill holdings and convince my grandfather that the terms of his will are prehistoric.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s stipulated that all his heirs need to be married for at least a year in order to inherit their share of the fortune.” He set down the sheet of paper he’d retrieved from the kitchen drawer; she could see it was a sketch of the bungalow that she’d inquired about earlier, a project that couldn’t be further from her mind now. “I don’t know if the guy is going senile or what, but my personal experience makes me an excellent case study for why marriage is a bad idea.”
His expression darkened, the way it always did when he referred to his ex-wife. It upset Brianne to think Theresa had skewed Gabe’s view of love forever.
“You wouldn’t be eligible to inherit because you weren’t married long enough.” She couldn’t envision Gabe living in Manhattan or moving in that high-powered business world, but that was probably naive of her. He was a major owner of Transparent, the new social-media software-integration giant run by his brother Damon that seemed to be in the news daily.
“Right.” Gabe took a long swig from his water bottle. “I’ll never marry again, but does that mean Jason shouldn’t inherit? It’s not fair to an innocent kid. So I’m going to visit the family in New York and convince Gramps to tweak the will to ensure his great grandson has a fair share of the legacy.” He ruffled his son’s dark wispy baby curls. “Who could resist this little guy?”
Jason kicked the tray with his bare toes, sending carrots jumping on his plate. The movement preoccupied him, and the baby became fixated with studying the bright orange bits.
“You have a point.” Smiling, Brianne reached over to give the baby’s feet a fond squeeze, her heart warming at the sight of the two McNeills, one so adorable and the other so...off-limits.
Damn it.
No matter how appealing Gabe might be, he wasn’t in any position to start a relationship in the wake of his unhappy marriage. Brianne knew it was too soon to get involved with a man nursing a broken heart. And now? She might never have the chance to be more than a friend.
“So Jason and I are going to spend some time in Manhattan. A few months at least.” He tipped back in his chair and reached behind him to drag the baby’s sippy cup off the granite kitchen counter. “I’ve been making drawings of the next few units for you so you can see the changes I’m going to ask the contractor to implement.” As he passed her the sketch, his hand stalled on the envelope from Nana. “Should you read this?” he asked, handing it to her a second time. “Your grandmother doesn’t write you very often.”
As her gaze returned to the shaky scrawl on the outside of the note, a pang of worry pierced through the knot of unhappy emotions she felt over Gabe’s departure. How disloyal of her it was to put her life in Martinique—her complicated feelings for Gabe—in front of her own family.
“You’re right.” Brianne slid a finger under the envelope flap and raked it open. “I know she doesn’t write as much lately because her arthritis has gotten worse.”
“All the more reason it might be important if she took the time and effort to write to you now,” Gabe added, standing up to grab a damp dishrag from the sink.
He used the cloth to clean up some stray carrots on the tray while Brianne read the brief letter. The scrawl was shaky. Nana took a couple of paragraphs to talk about the failed effort to get a rooftop communal garden in her building, something she’d been excited about. Brianne scanned the rest quickly, thinking she’d take her time to read more closely later. The last paragraph jumped out at her.
I had a little run-in with a mugger yesterday—your standard local junkie, nothing personal. I’m fine. Just a bit sore. It’s not a problem really, but makes getting to the market harder. If the offer is still open to have some groceries delivered, your Nana might just take you up on it. I’ve got plenty to get me through this week, though, so don’t you worry.
Love you, child.
“Oh, my God.” Brianne’s heart was in total free fall.
Her grandmother, the most important person in her whole world, was hurt and alone this week while Brianne had been planting beautiful flowers, living in a Caribbean paradise and mooning over an impossible man. The knowledge sliced right through her.
“What’s wrong?” Gabe was by her side instantly, a hand on her shoulder.
“I need to go home.” Shakily, she tried to stand, her knees feeling unsteady. “Now.”
* * *
“Whoa. Wait.” Gabe half caught Brianne in his arms, something that at any other time would have brought with it a forbidden pleasure he’d enjoy even though he didn’t deserve to.
Today, however, she was clearly distressed. Pale and shaking. What the hell was in that letter?
“I need to go home, Gabe. She’s hurt.” The broken sound of Brianne’s voice stunned him.
He’d seen this woman heft twenty-five-pound bags of dirt under one slender arm and collar snakes with lightning-fast reflexes so she could “relocate” them. He would have never imagined her in tears, but her dark brown eyes were unnaturally bright with them.
“Who’s hurt? Your grandmother?” Reluctantly, he pulled his hand from her back, where his fingers briefly tangled in her thick, dark ponytail. He made sure she was steady before he let go of her. Her black T-shirt with an American rock-band logo was wrinkled, the fabric hitching up on one side away from the lightweight cargo pants that were her everyday work uniform.
Her breath came in fast pants as one tear rolled down her cheek. Her normally olive skin had gone as white as the envelope she still clutched. Just a moment ago, she’d been teasing smiles from his son, her beauty naturally captivating even when she wasn’t making silly faces to entertain the boy.
“Read it.” She thrust the note at Gabe and his eyes scanned the short message from Rose Hanson while Brianne fumbled in the leg pocket of her cargo pants and pulled out her cell phone. “I’ve been saving money to move her down here with me. I was going to talk to her this weekend when we’re supposed to have a video call. I should have been connecting with her every day, but I’m calling her now.”
Brianne held the phone to her ear. Gabe could hear someone speaking on the other end, but the call must have gone straight to voice mail message because Brianne punched a button and tried again.
“It’s okay.” He moved around the high chair so he could be closer to her, and yes, put his arm around her again. He gave her a gentle, one-armed hug, hoping to comfort her somehow as he steeled himself for the shock of pleasure that touching her created. “We’ll send someone to check on her. A home health nurse.”
Brianne left a message for her grandmother, asking her to call her back right away. Shoving her phone back in her pants pocket, she slumped over the table.
He regretted that he didn’t know more about Brianne’s family background. All he knew was that her upbringing had been rough enough to make her grandmother cash in the last of her savings to send her off to Martinique with a friend who was retiring to the island. Brianne had been just twelve years old at the time. Her guardian had been little more than a stranger, but she helped Brianne finish her schooling and find an apprenticeship with a local botanist.
Gabe had been caught up in his own drama for so damn long he’d never really gotten to know Brianne as well as he would have liked to. Of course, there was always a hint—just a hint—of a spark with her. He’d ignored it easily enough when he’d been with Theresa, telling himself that the feelings for Brianne were of the creative-professional variety, that he admired her design skills and commitment to her projects.
But there was more to it than that, and it roared to life when he tucked her head under his chin. The scent of her hair was as vibrantly floral as the gardens she tended every day. He couldn’t ignore the feel of her against him, the lush feminine curves at odds with her utilitarian work clothes.
“There’s no one.” She shook her head, her soft, dark hair brushing his jaw. “My stepmother was living with Nana Rose, but then Wendy got a new boyfriend and moved out last month. I’ve been so worried—”
“I’ll find a home health-care service and make a call right now.” He pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, hoping Jason’s caregiver returned from lunch soon so Gabe could give Brianne his undivided attention.
The protective instinct was too strong to ignore. Brianne had been a positive force in his life during his worst days. And her daily, sunny presence in his son’s world soothed a small portion of Gabe’s guilt and resentment over not being able to provide a mother for his own child.
“No.” Brianne straightened suddenly, tensing as she withdrew from his touch. “It’s my job, not yours, Gabe. But thank you.” She took out her phone again and keyed in a code with trembling fingers. “That’s a good idea to have someone check on her until I can get there.”
“Gah!” his son shouted behind him and Gabe turned to see the boy tossing a carrot in the air.
Even though she was upset and distracted, Brianne managed a shaky smile for Jason. She was so different from the baby’s mother, who seemed content to leave the parenting to Gabe no matter how often he’d offered to fly to the States so she could see their son. She had no plans to see her baby until Valentine’s Day, when she’d arranged a photo shoot in New York with a country-music magazine. As if a child was a prop to show off when needed.
Nevertheless, Gabe would be there to facilitate in the small window of time available for his son to see his mother.
“Maybe you won’t have to travel all the way to New York once you have a report on how she’s doing from an outside source.” Gabe hated to see Brianne return to a life that made her unhappy. No matter how much she loved her grandmother, he knew Brianne had bad memories of the home she’d left behind. “You can have a health-care aide for her as often as you want until you’re ready to move her down here.”
He wanted to fix this. To keep her happy and comfortable in a life she seemed to thrive in. Something about the gardens and Brianne was forever connected in his mind. She had a healthy vibrancy that was reflected in her work and he knew somehow the hotel wouldn’t be the same—nothing would be the same here—if she left.
“I’m taking the next available flight.” Her fingers stilled on the phone as she scrolled through screens, her dark eyes meeting his. “That is, I hope you understand I’ll need some emergency time away from work.”
“Of course, that’s a given.” He didn’t want her to worry about her job. Although selfishly, he hoped her family wouldn’t somehow convince her to relocate to New York. He wanted her to return to Martinique eventually since this was his permanent home. He hadn’t realized how much he looked forward to working with her every day until he considered the proposition of not seeing her cutting fresh blooms for the lobby desk each morning. “Your position here is secure.”
“Thank you.” She nodded, long bangs catching on the thick fringe of her eyelashes. “I need to pack in case I can catch something on stand-by tonight.” Backing toward the door, she shoved the letter in her pocket. Her cargo pants momentarily pulled tight across her hips.
What was the matter with him that he noticed all the wrong things on a day she needed his friendship? She’d been a rock in his world. He wouldn’t allow her to deal with this family emergency on her own when she was clearly upset.
“Don’t fly stand-by.” He wanted to help her. She never asked for anything and worked hard every day to make the hotel a more beautiful place. She’d been a source of laughter and escape during the hellish weeks after his separation from Theresa.
And he couldn’t let her go this way.
“Gabe, I have to.” The passion—the vehemence—in her voice surprised him; he’d never heard her use that tone. “She’s hurt. Someone hurt her. She’s eighty years old and she gave me everything I have.”
Just like that, he knew he wasn’t going to let her go alone. Not when it was this important to her and she was so upset.
“And you shouldn’t figure all of this out on your own when you’re so distracted and worried.” He didn’t want her driving when she was still shaking. Or hiring a car from the airport that would take her the long way to Brooklyn because she was too rattled to notice. “I was planning to go to New York anyhow.” It made far more sense for them to go together. “I’ll take you there myself on my family’s jet. Tonight.”
“You can’t do that.” She lifted her arms in the air, exasperated. A long section of dark hair escaped the ponytail to tease against her cheek and she blew it aside impatiently. “You have a son to think about. You can’t disrupt Jason’s schedule to fly at the last minute.”
Brianne gave the boy a tender look, her expression visibly softening as she stroked the back of her knuckle along the baby’s arm.
Through the window Gabe spotted Camille, Jason’s caregiver, walking up the planked path. He was glad she was back so he could focus on convincing Brianne to travel with him.
“My grandfather has been trying to entice my brothers and me to spend time in Manhattan for months,” he explained, pulling Jason out of his high chair and giving the boy a kiss on his head. “I can move up my departure date. My half brother Cam gave me the number of a local pilot who can have a flight plan filed with an hour’s notice. If you want to go to New York tonight, I’ll call him to take us. It will be faster than navigating the airport crush.”
As Camille entered, he passed her the boy and asked her to pack the child’s clothes for a two-week trip. He planned to stay longer than that, but would buy more things once they were settled. Camille cooed at Jason and gave Gabe a nod to indicate she’d heard him while he ushered Brianne out of the kitchen and into the afternoon sun outside.
“Gabe, I could never begin to repay you—”
“Why would you have to?” he interrupted, unwilling to let her think in those terms. “I told you, I need to be in New York anyhow so it makes sense for us to travel together. I owe you more than I’ve paid you, Brianne, if it comes right down to it. But you never hear me complain when you work long hours and contribute more to this place than anyone else. Now it’s your turn to accept something extra from me.”
She seemed to weigh this, her lips pursing as she visibly wrestled with the idea of arguing. But in the end, she put up both her hands in surrender.
“You know what? For Nana Rose, I’m just going to say thank you and go pack.”
“Good.” He nodded, already making a mental to-do list, starting with booking the plane and contacting the nanny who would be making the trip with them. “I’ll let you know when I’ve got our flight time confirmed. After we land, we can share a car from the airport, so count on me to bring you straight to your grandmother’s doorstep.”
“Fine.” Her jaw tightened. “That is, thank you.”
As she retreated, he wanted to offer more. To suggest additional ways he could help out since she might be facing more medical bills and travel arrangements where her grandmother was concerned. But he didn’t want to push his luck with his proud and prickly landscape designer. He had a whole plane ride to talk to her and convince her to let him give her a hand moving her beloved relative back to Martinique. He and Brianne made such a good team at work. Why couldn’t they carry that into their personal lives, especially when they were both going through some tough transitions?
The idea held a whole lot of appeal. Maybe that should have troubled him given that he’d just emerged from a disastrous marriage and divorce. Instead, he felt an undeniable pull of awareness that had been absent from his life ever since his wife was two months pregnant and had announced she was leaving him.
Two (#u9945bf98-7f25-52d8-b020-e0731532b2bf)
Brianne paced outside her cabin in front of the huge strangler fig that listed to one side after years of leaning with the prevailing winds. Suitcase haphazardly packed and ready to go on her tiny wooden porch, she forced herself to take a deep breath while she waited for Gabe to pick her up. Dusk was just settling over the island, casting the resort in shades of pink and peach. Her cabin was already dark from the shadows cast by the wide branches of the tree.
Kneeling down, she scraped a few leaves off the plaque she’d placed there last fall, a final gift bequeathed to her from Nana’s friend Carol, who had brought Brianne to this place fourteen years ago as a smart-mouthed preteen. Carol had run out of her retirement funds by the end, her final years in a nursing home having depleted her account. But she’d left the plaque for Brianne, a wrought-iron piece with a Chinese proverb in raised letters reading, “When the root is deep, there is no reason to fear the wind.”
Brianne had understood the message—that she needed to rely on the roots Carol had helped her to set down in Martinique, and the values that Nana had tried to impart before Brianne’s world imploded with family drama. It didn’t matter that Brianne’s mom had been a junkie who deserted the family when her dealer moved to Miami, leaving eight-year-old Brianne with a father who was allergic to work but not women. Even then, Brianne had felt like the adult in the house, forging her father’s signature on papers from school, instinctively guessing her troubles would multiply if anyone found out how often she went unsupervised.
At the time, she couldn’t have known how much worse off she’d be once her dad’s girlfriend moved in with them, bringing kids from previous relationships and a surprise half sibling, whose combined support cost far more than the toxic couple could afford. If not for free school lunches, Brianne didn’t know how she would have survived those lonely years, where no one remembered to feed her let alone buy her new shoes or check her homework. But when puberty hit, delivering feminine assets no eleven-year-old should have to contend with, she suddenly had all the wrong kinds of attention.
She shuddered at the memories, grateful to hear Gabe’s SUV tires crunch the gravel on the far side of the cabin. He’d texted her two hours ago that they could leave at 7:00 p.m., and now here he was—as promised—fifteen minutes before their scheduled departure. Because apparently on a private jet they could take off almost as soon as they buckled into the seats.
Somehow, that kind of favor seemed far more generous than the extra hours she occasionally put in at the Birdsong carefully training a vine over an arbor or watering a temperamental new planting. But for Nana’s sake, she sure wasn’t going to argue with Gabe about a lift to New York on such short notice. With her bank account, she’d be hard-pressed to afford the rest of the trip and relocating her grandmother, let alone a plane ticket. Still, although she understood the McNeill family could easily afford this kind of travel, she was touched that he wanted to bring her. That was a dangerous feeling to have about her boss, who already appealed to her on far too many levels.
Wheeling her battered duffel bag around to the driveway behind the cabin, she got there in time to see Gabe open the liftgate on the back of the dark gray Mercedes SUV. In a nod to traveling with her employer, she’d dressed in her best dark jeans and a flowy, floral blouse in bright tangerine and yellow that slid off her shoulders and made her feel pretty. Gabe, on the other hand, looked ready to escort an A-list actress to an Oscars after-party, his jacket and slim-fitting navy pants the sort of clothes that came from a tailor and not the department-store racks. Even his shirt, open at the neck, was beautiful—it was snowy white and embroidered with extra white stitching around the placket. The dark tasseled loafers were, she supposed, his effort to keep things less formal.
“Any news about your grandmother?” he asked.
“She hasn’t picked up any of my calls or returned my messages.” Brianne didn’t know if the phone was dead or the ringer was shut off, but each time she tried Nana’s number and got no answer only made her worry more.
“Did you get someone to go over to see her?”
“No.” Guilt nipped at her, and she wondered if Gabe could have managed the feat if she’d allowed him to take the task as he’d wanted. “The agency I called said it was too late in the afternoon to schedule a same-day visit. They suggested I call the police if I was worried about her safety.”
“Did you?” His blue eyes skimmed over her, making her too aware of his nearness.
Nodding, she tried not to notice how good he smelled. “I did. I wanted to find out if Nana had reported the mugging, first of all, but there’s nothing on file with the police. Then, when I asked about someone checking on her, they promised they would send a car out in the morning.”
“We’ll be there sooner than that,” he assured her. “Is this all your luggage?” He reached for the soft-sided bag and retracted the handle into the bottom before he set it in the trunk of the SUV, muscles flexing in a way that pulled the fabric of his jacket taut across his shoulders.
“That’s it.” She peered into the vehicle and saw Ms. Camille’s daughter, Nadine, sitting beside Jason’s car seat and called out a greeting before returning her attention to Gabe. “I’m not even sure what I packed. I think I just grabbed something out of each drawer and tossed it in there.”
She kept picturing the nightmarish scene of a mugger stealing from her grandmother. She hated that anyone would target someone elderly and frail.
Gabe frowned as he walked with her to the passenger side of the vehicle and opened the door for her. “You should stay with me when we get to New York. My half brother Ian invited me to use his place for the next month while he and his wife are abroad. They have a spacious five-bedroom apartment in a hotel in midtown. There’s concierge service, so if you’ve forgotten anything—”
“No, thank you.” She buckled her seat belt and leaned into the soft leather chair, hoping he would drop it. She didn’t want to be rude, but she couldn’t accept more gifts from him. Her pride wouldn’t allow it. She’d been a charity case once and knew how demoralizing it felt to need a handout. “You’re already doing enough for me.”
Turning to Nadine and Jason, she gave the baby’s chubby knee a pat to say hello. Jason tipped his head sideways against the car seat, as if he couldn’t keep it upright any longer, but smiled at her sweetly. “Gah!”
The boy was so adorable, his dark curls and blue eyes already like his father’s. She wondered if it made it easier or more difficult for Gabe that Jason didn’t favor his mother more. How could Theresa have signed away her rights to raise this precious child?
Gabe took his place behind the wheel and they began the drive inland, leaving the hotel and everything she’d worked hard for in her life.
“Do you know I haven’t been on a plane since I arrived here fourteen years ago?” She made the observation as a peace offering, hoping he’d forget about her refusal to take up residence with him in a fancy Manhattan hotel.
It was tough enough to be around him as an employee today. She wouldn’t push her luck by getting closer to him personally.
“Are you a nervous flyer?” he asked, steering around a tourist caravan pulled off to one side of the road to snap photos.
She was only nervous about sitting too close to him. His kindness and attention were quickly wearing away the boundaries she’d put up, defenses she thought were solid.
“I don’t think so.” She didn’t recall much about the long-ago journey. She’d cried most of the way, convinced her life was over. “It was a stressful trip, but only because I was being uprooted. I should have returned home long before this.”
She had plenty of reasons, none of them good enough to fully explain her complicated feelings about her family.
“I’m glad you’re going with me.” He glanced her way as he rolled to a stop at a quiet intersection.
The remark was a garden-variety, friendly thing to say. But ever since he’d held her earlier—even though it had been strictly for comfort—she’d been hyperaware of Gabe McNeill. Her throat went dry.
“That’s kind of you to say, but I can’t imagine it was easy wrapping up your business at the hotel in just a few hours.” She smiled over her shoulder at Nadine, needing a distraction from the warmth in Gabe’s blue eyes. “Nadine, you must have been surprised to get a call with so little notice.”
“I have been asking my mother daily when Monsieur McNeill would be ready to take this trip. I am anxious to see New York City.” She grinned widely, her smile so warm and open, like her mother’s. “I started packing two weeks ago when I first learned this might happen.”
“You see, Brianne?” Gabe downshifted as he turned into the private airfield, a little-used amenity for the island’s most privileged. “The trip was meant to be, and it was just as well you lit a fire to get us underway. I might have spent another week tweaking that archway molding.”
Grateful to speak about something besides the family problems waiting for her on the other end of their flight, Brianne seized on the topic with both hands.
“You do beautiful work.”
“It’s an indulgence. A hobby I invest too much time in.” His expression darkened as he parked the SUV beside an exotic black sports car in the small lot. “Now that I’m a father, I need to spend less time on personal pursuits and more time developing my business to provide for Jason’s future.”
In the back seat, Nadine unbuckled the baby, prattling to him about the great adventure they were going to have.
Brianne followed him to the back of the SUV to help with the bags. She’d never seen anyone restore historic woodwork with as much precision and commitment to craft as Gabe. “What you do is a gift few people have. It’s a dying art.”
She pulled out her bag and started to reach for a smaller suitcase when a uniformed attendant greeted them, a cart at the ready to wheel their luggage to the plane. A warm breeze blew strands of her ponytail around her neck to stick briefly on her lip balm. She peeled her hair aside, tossing it back behind her shoulder.
“And it’s dying for a reason,” Gabe replied as they followed the airfield staffer to a gleaming white Cessna with the stairs lowered and ready. “Not enough people care about those kinds of details when you can purchase a prefabricated piece for a fraction of the cost.”
He greeted the pilot while the ground attendant loaded their bags for them, leaving Brianne to consider his words. She would have never guessed he’d be so dismissive of the craft he’d spent years honing.
While the attendant ushered them on board the private plane, Brianne weighed what he’d said. Maybe she didn’t know him nearly as well as she thought she did. As if the sleek jet at his disposal didn’t already highlight that they came from different worlds, now she questioned how much value he placed on her chosen career field if he viewed his own as simply a “hobby.”
Bristling, she told herself not to let it bother her. She was worried about her grandmother and on edge to begin with. She buckled into the deluxe white leather seat as the attendant who saw them on to the plane briefly reviewed some of the amenities. There was a fully stocked bar, Wi-Fi access throughout the journey, global channels available and a simplified cold menu since there would be no server on board with them.
Gabe thanked her, then settled Nadine and Jason in a private compartment in the back. He returned to take the spot beside Brianne, his arm brushing hers briefly as he fastened his seat belt. The pilot pulled up the stairs and locked the exterior door before closing himself in the cockpit for the flight. Not long after, the engine rumbled as the aircraft taxied forward.
Now that they were settled, Brianne picked up the thread of their conversation. “I still can’t believe you’d put woodworking down like that. What about landscape design? Is that a dying art best left to wither?”
“Of course not—” he said.
But she wasn’t finished. Some of the agitation of the day came out now, her argument picking up momentum as the plane picked up speed.
“Because you can surely purchase a random tree or bush at your local nursery and throw it in the ground. Who needs beauty and refinement when there’s a buck to be made?”
As the plane left the ground and gained altitude, the view from the windows shifted from the scattered lights of buildings to a deeper darkness. The cabin lights dimmed automatically, casting them in deep shadow until Gabe switched on the reading lamp over the vacant seating across from them. Only then could she see the level look in those blue eyes as he studied her.
“You think I’m suggesting it’s all about money?” His voice gave nothing away.
“That’s how it sounds to me. Like your craftsmanship is less important than learning the art of moneymaking at the elbow of a business titan like Malcolm McNeill.” But some of the steam went out of her argument at his cool words, and she wondered if she’d misunderstood him.
He leaned forward in his seat and turned toward her, giving her his full attention.
“I have a son to think about. His future is more important to me than any job, passion or hobby.” The intensity in his expression was unmistakable. She used to see it, to some degree, when he worked on a restoration project. But this was different.
Powerful.
“I understand that.” Truly, she did. “I admire it tremendously given the careless way other people parent their children.” Drawing a breath, she ventured closer to her point. “But what if you teach your son that success can be found in things that make you happy?”
Air blew on her from the vents overhead, giving her a sudden chill. Or maybe it was caused by the look on Gabe’s face.
“Do I want to teach Jason that it’s okay to walk away from responsibilities to pursue any self-centered shot at happiness just because it’s shiny and different?” He smoothed the sleeve of his jacket, his forearm resting on the white leather chair between them. “His mother already turned her back on family for a chance at fame. I’ll be damned if I make the same selfish choices, too.”
Three (#u9945bf98-7f25-52d8-b020-e0731532b2bf)
Talk about a conversation fail.
Two hours into the flight to New York, Gabe cursed himself for allowing emotions he normally kept in check to bubble to the surface with Brianne. But her words had reopened a wound he’d been determined to ignore. He refused to let thoughts of his ex-wife ruin his relationships—not with Brianne, and most especially not with his son.
Brianne had slipped past his defenses in other ways, too, stirring to life an attraction he’d had on lockdown since they met. And that had given rise to an outrageous idea. Instead of arguing with her, he needed to use this flight to talk to her about working together to help further one another’s interests.
There was still time to reevaluate his strategy, of course. He could keep the scheme brewing in his head to himself and simply escort her to Brooklyn as they’d agreed. In light of the disconnect they had after boarding the plane, maybe that would be the best solution. Except his plan wasn’t just about helping himself. It would offer her a face-saving solution to aid her grandmother. It was a way around Brianne’s prickly pride to deliver assistance she would otherwise never accept.
He felt Brianne’s fingers brush the sleeve of his jacket—the barest of touches to capture his attention. Turning, he found her curled sideways in her seat, facing him. Shoes off, she had her feet tucked under her in the wide leather armchair. At some point during the flight, she had taken her hair down from its ponytail, and the silky dark waves spilled over the lightweight gray wrap she’d pulled around herself like a blanket. In the lamplight, he could see the spatter of golden freckles over the bridge of her nose.
“I’m sorry.” She let her fingers linger on his sleeve for just a moment, lightly rubbing back and forth across his wrist, before the touch fell away. “I have no business telling you what’s right or wrong to teach your son. I’m so wound up and worried about Nana, I’m not thinking straight.”
He set aside his phone, where he’d been scrolling through messages, including a text from Theresa’s personal assistant scheduling an “appointment” to have Jason at the photographer’s studio in Nashville for the Valentine’s Day photo shoot. As much as he wanted Jason to have time with his mother, a magazine spread wasn’t what he had in mind. And he worried about Jason’s future if Theresa decided to pop in and out of his life. Their son needed stability.
Shoving the troubling thoughts aside, he turned briefly to check the private compartment behind them. No sounds had come from Nadine or Jason in the last hour. Confirming that Jason was all settled, he turned back to Brianne to give her his undivided attention.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” He tipped his head against the seat rest and stared up at the jet’s contoured ceiling. “You had no way of knowing my concerns for Jason’s future.” He debated how much more to say about it. But if he was going to propose his new plan to Brianne, he would need to share more with her about his personal life. “You couldn’t have possibly known how much time I spent trying to convince Jason’s mother to make room in her career so that she could be there for her family.”
The old resentment was still fresh.
Brianne tilted her head to one side. “So you want Jason to have more opportunities because Theresa saw only one for herself, and it cost her her family?”
“I don’t want my son to ever feel so locked in to one life choice that he can’t compromise for the sake of love. Family. Personal relationships.” Gabe had offered Theresa so many possible ways to make a family work while she pursued her dream, but she hadn’t seriously considered any of them. Stardom and family didn’t mix, apparently. She wanted to be “free” to travel as much as she chose without worrying about returning home to the needs of an infant.
He’d told Theresa he would always be there for her, no matter how far she traveled. But she seemed to check out on their marriage the moment something more interesting came along. He could have dealt with that. What killed him was that she’d checked out on motherhood before even giving birth, spending less than a week with Jason before pleading with Gabe to take him back to Martinique so she could concentrate.
Beside him, Brianne pulled the wrap more tightly around her. “I understand. I just hope you find time one day to do what makes you happiest, as well.”
“For now, I’m content to focus on Jason. There’s nothing more important to me than giving him stability. A sense of family.”
He had a lot to make up to the boy after being unable to keep his mother around.
“Tell me more about the McNeills who live in New York.” Brianne tilted forward to rest her chin on one knee. “Is your extended family large?”
“Besides my grandfather, Malcolm, I’ve got three half brothers—Cameron, Quinn and Ian. They all married in the last year.”
“Because of the terms of Malcolm’s will?” Idly, she spun one of her gold rings around her finger with her thumb. The topaz stone appeared and disappeared as she rotated it. Did he make her nervous?
She didn’t normally wear jewelry while working. Taking this trip together gave Gabe a different view of her; this was a softer, more vulnerable side of the woman he’d only known through their work. Or maybe he’d never allowed himself to see this aspect of her, knowing he would be drawn to her even more. There was something compelling about Brianne. And something very, very sexy.
He forced his thoughts back to her question. “I’m not close enough with that branch of the family to know their reasons, but it seems highly coincidental they all happened to find true love within months of discovering they wouldn’t inherit the family business if they weren’t married for at least a calendar year.” Then he considered his own brothers and their new marriages. “But both Damon and Jager are over the moon about their wives, so who knows?”
Brianne bit her lip as she considered what he said. Gabe’s gaze lingered on her mouth, on the straight, white teeth pressing into her full lower lip. A bolt of hunger pierced right through him.
“And your dad?” she asked tentatively.
He hissed out a heated breath even as he wondered how she would taste if he took a sip of that lush mouth.
“My biological father is out of the picture.” He knew that in no uncertain terms. “Apparently Malcolm put Liam at the helm of the company a few years ago and McNeill Resorts started to falter, which is some of what prompted all the new emphasis on the next generation and inspired the unorthodox terms of the will. Liam never placed any importance on family.”
“So Jason will be introduced to his great-grandfather, three new uncles, plus their wives.” Brianne ticked them off on her fingers, putting the size of the family into perspective. “Are there any cousins in the mix yet?”
Gabe noticed the rose-colored stone on her pinkie ring was facing the wrong way and couldn’t resist reaching over to rotate it a quarter turn, letting his fingers brush hers for a second longer than necessary. He wanted to touch her more.
And often.
The awareness between them wasn’t going away. If anything, it increased every hour they spent together.
“Cameron’s wife, Maresa, had a daughter coming into their marriage. And you heard that Damon and Caroline now have a son, Lucas?” He looked at her for confirmation. Damon lived in Silicon Valley these days, but he’d made an appearance at the family compound in Martinique a few weeks ago. Caroline hadn’t even known she was pregnant when she was kidnapped a year ago, so Damon had been shocked to discover they had a son when she returned from her captivity after a bout of amnesia. “Plus Jager and Delia are expecting their first child this summer.”
“Jason will be surrounded by cousins.” Smiling, Brianne reached up to adjust the vent near her seat. The cool air wafted a soft hint of her fragrance his way, a single fragrant note. “No wonder you’d like closer ties to the family.”
She understood. Family was important to her, and now she recognized how deeply significant it was for him. The knowledge eased the last of his worries about his plan even as the traces of her scent heightened the urge to get closer.
“I want to strengthen that bond.” He knew Brianne would appreciate directness. But he’d definitely never envisioned himself making this kind of appeal. “That’s why I’m second-guessing myself about my approach with Malcolm.” Sensing the time was drawing near to make his pitch, he retrieved the carafe from the small table in front of them. “More water?”
“Sure.” She lifted her cut crystal glass and held it out to him. “What do you mean? I thought you were going to try and convince him to remove the marriage stipulation from his will?”
Gabe’s hand touched hers briefly as she passed him the glass. He couldn’t deny that touching her more often was a definite benefit of his plan. Brianne fascinated him, from her down-to-earth beauty to her easy way around his son. She had values he shared. And yes, she was a sensual, appealing woman.
Just thinking about her made him remember the need to top off his own glass. A cool drink would be a wise idea right about now.
“It occurs to me I’m the odd man out when all of my brothers and half brothers have already fallen in line with Malcolm’s wishes.” But Gabe knew even that could change, since there was a whole other branch of the family that Malcolm had only revealed to them a few weeks ago. Liam’s older brother, Donovan, had disavowed his father long ago, and refused to acknowledge McNeill Resorts or any of the McNeill legacy. No doubt Donovan had started over again in Wyoming, making his own fortune, and no doubt there were potential heirs out there whom Malcolm would try to draw back into the fold. But considering the way Donovan had shunned the rest of the family, Gabe wasn’t sure any of those cousins would be interested.
“I thought that was one of your biggest reasons for going to New York?” Brianne’s dark eyebrows furrowed as she accepted the glass from him, the gray cashmere wrap sliding off her shoulder when she moved.
“No. My main focus is learning more about their business and strengthening ties with the McNeills for Jason’s sake.”
“Because you can’t allow Jason to be left out of the will. It’s not fair that he can’t inherit because Theresa chose to walk away.” She sipped her water, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. “No one could have foreseen that.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you for being defensive on my son’s behalf.”
“He is your son,” she said simply. “He deserves all the privileges that come with the McNeill name.”
“I couldn’t agree more. But there may be a better way to secure those rights. One that won’t put me at odds with my grandfather as soon as I set foot in New York.” He set aside the water pitcher and his untouched glass. The jet would be initiating descent soon and he wanted to secure an answer from Brianne before they reached their destination.
“How?” She set her drink aside, too, curious.
Unsuspecting.
“I could do what the rest of my brothers have done.” He watched her carefully. “I could marry.”
Her eyes went wide, jaw dropping. “Seriously?” Then she shook her head, as if none of what he’d said made any sense. “I thought you said you would never marry again?”
That had been before he acknowledged the danger of Theresa deciding she wanted to revisit the custody terms they’d already settled upon legally. Yes, she’d been glad to give him full custody at the time of their divorce. Grateful, even. But if she suddenly decided it would be a marketing hook for her career to have a baby in tow, might she try to convince a judge to overturn the agreement? As much as Gabe wanted Jason to know his birth mother, he wouldn’t allow it to happen at the expense of a stable home. Being married could give Gabe an extra edge legally.
Not that he would complicate matters with Brianne by dragging all that up.
“This marriage would be very different,” he said instead. “A practical arrangement to serve a particular need.” He meant that. But damn. As soon as he’d spoken the words, his brain conjured very different practical needs that might be served if he wed in name only.
And had Brianne in his bed.
“A marriage of convenience?” The words came out on a horrified half whisper almost drowned out by the drone of the plane’s engines.
He’d managed to scandalize her. Not quite what he was going for. So he concentrated on laying out the terms the same way he’d sketch out a plan for a building, helping her to see the final product before she dressed it up with landscaping.
“A legal union for twelve months and a day. Just long enough to ensure Jason can inherit his share of the McNeill legacy.” He studied her, surprised she hadn’t made the connection yet about where this was headed. About her role in it. But he knew she felt the spark of attraction that he did, even if she ignored it as studiously as he had.
He needed to get past that careful facade now. Acknowledge the heat for what it was—a sensual connection that could make the next twelve months incredibly rewarding for both of them. Reaching across the leather armrest between them, Gabe took her hands in his. Her skin was cool to the touch. The pale pink paint on her short nails shone under the dome light.
“Brianne.” He slid his thumbs over the insides of her palms, stroking light circles there before he met her dark gaze again. “I want you to marry me.”
* * *
Breathless, Brianne felt mesmerized by the man and the moment. The proposal was so ludicrous, so impossible, it was like one of those delicious dreams where she knew she was dreaming but didn’t want to wake up. Because in a dream, a woman could explore forbidden things like a sexy attraction to her wealthy, gorgeous boss. In that moment between waking and sleeping, there was no harm in feeling that tingle of hot awareness down both thighs. Along the lower spine.
In her breasts.
The simple stroke of Gabe’s hands had that same effect on her. But unfortunately, Brianne was not dreaming. She needed to wake up and put a stop to all this right now before things ventured into even more forbidden territory.
She needed her job, now more than ever. Too much to risk a misstep with Gabe, no matter how much she wanted to run her lips along his whisker-rough jaw and inhale the woodsy cedar scent of him.
“Very funny.” She tugged her hands out from between his, tucking them between her knees. That way, she wouldn’t be tempted to touch him back. “I can see where marrying your gardener would be a nice, in-your-face gesture to your megarich grandfather, but I’m sure you’ll come up with something better than that.”
“I’m not joking.” Gabe’s voice was even, his expression grave. “My back’s against a wall with Malcolm’s will, and a marriage is the simplest way to ensure my son’s future.”
In that moment, she realized he hadn’t been joking. Which made the proposition all the more unsettling.
“So marry. Fine. I get it.” She knew how much value he placed on giving his son every advantage in life. She admired that about him, but she couldn’t possibly help him. “But you have to know I can’t take part in a scheme like that. There’s far too much for me to lose.”
His gaze narrowed slightly. “You haven’t let me outline the full extent of the plan or what you stand to gain.” He seemed to shift gears, appealing to her on a business level. “Half the reason I want to do this would be for your benefit. If you help me with the marriage, I will extend to you every advantage that comes from being a McNeill in return. That means no more worrying about your grandmother or where she’ll live. As my wife, you’ll have access to the best doctors and round-the-clock nurse aides, if you need help caring for her.”
The possibilities spun in front of her eyes, as she contemplated the way Gabe could wave the wand of his wealth and power over her life and fix things—just like that. It brought into sharp focus what he was offering.
Not just to her. To Nana.
“I couldn’t marry someone for the sake of money.” What kind of person did that make her? She shook her head. “It’s too...bloodless. Not that I have any great romantic plans for my future, but I also never pictured myself heading to the altar for the sake of a hospital bill.”
Shifting positions, she straightened in her seat and placed her feet back on the floor. No more cozy intimacies with this man. It was too risky. Too tempting.
“There are worse reasons to marry, I promise you.” The dark resentment in his voice reminded Brianne of how devastating marrying for love could be. “And the reason I thought of you, Brianne, is not just because this marriage would benefit you. But also because I trust you.”
Her gaze snapped up to meet his.
“Yes,” he said, answering her wordless question. “It’s true. This marriage would place a tremendous amount of power in a woman’s hands for the next year. It also gives my wife access to my family, which means more to me than anything. I can’t think of anyone else I would trust the way I trust you.”
“Why?” She shook her head, not understanding. “We only just work together. I mean, we share a few laughs and things, but—”
“Two reasons. One, you’re good with Jason. I see how gentle you are with him. How your eyes smile when you look at him. You can’t fake that kind of warmth or enjoyment of kids.”
She opened her mouth, but snapped it shut again; she wasn’t sure what to say. “Everyone loves babies.”
“That’s not true. Not even close,” he said with unmistakable bitterness. “But the second reason I trust you is this.” He took her hand again and held it. Firmly. “There was a spark between us from the moment we met.”
“No.”
“Don’t deny it. We both ignored it and that was good. That was the right thing to do.” He squeezed her fingers gently and that warmth trickled through her veins again, like an injection of adrenaline. “Not many women would have ignored that spark. At the risk of being immodest, Brianne, the McNeill wealth attracts way too much feminine attention, and I haven’t always done a good job of appreciating the women who wanted me for my own sake versus the ones who wanted to get close to the lifestyle our world affords.”
She’d never thought about that before, but knowing what she did of human nature, she wasn’t surprised, either. Had Theresa been one of those women? She didn’t dare to ask; she was too overwhelmed by this shocking outpouring from Gabe.
“You, on the other hand—” he tipped up her chin to see into her eyes, and the warmth of his touch there made her mouth go dry “—you respected my marriage and my family, right through the day it all went up in flames and long afterward. That’s how I know I can trust you.”
“Gabe.” She couldn’t find the right words, was still stunned by his admission. He’d known about the attraction all along and hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t acted on it. “If what you’re saying is true, that there is a...spark—”
“Do you doubt it?” He loomed closer.
Her heart beat faster.
“Just, let’s say that there is an attraction.” The word scraped her throat. “It would be playing with fire to get married and play house. I can’t throw away my job—my future—for the sake of one year. I wouldn’t be able to work for you anymore.”
The fact that she’d tossed out an excuse rather than outright saying “hell, no” made her realize she was actually considering it in some corner of her mind. She guessed that he sensed as much since he leaned forward, a glint in his eyes that she recognized from when she’d seen him close a deal. He spotted an advantage.
“We’ll have a prenuptial agreement. You can name your terms for a settlement so you don’t need to concern yourself with work.”
“I like my job.” It was more than just a paycheck. She lived at the Birdsong. The gardens were a work in progress she hoped to develop for years to come. “I had plans to make the grounds an attraction people would visit there just to see.”
“So we’ll add in job security as part of the settlement.” He shrugged like it was such a small concern.
The plane dipped on a patch of turbulence and her belly pitched along with it. Gabe’s arm went around her shoulders automatically, steadying her.
She didn’t even realize that she’d grabbed him—his thigh, to be exact—until the plane was sailing smoothly again. Releasing him, she peered up into his eyes and tried to regain her equilibrium.
The heat glittering in his gaze didn’t come close to helping.
“We’d have to keep ignoring it.” The words slipped from her lips before she had time to think them over, making her realize she was already mulling over how this crazy idea might work.
“What?” He tensed, his arm tightening a fraction around her shoulders where he still held on to her.
“The attraction.” She plowed forward, knowing she might regret it but unable to turn down the offer of help for Nana. The level of help that Gabe could give her—the comfort his wealth could provide for her—was the kind of thing her selfless grandmother deserved in her late years. There was nothing Brianne wouldn’t do to repay Nana Rose. “We would have to keep a lock on any attraction, the same way we’ve always done.” That was nonnegotiable. “I don’t want to feel like I sold my soul for the sake of Nana’s care.”
His eyes dipped to her lips. Lingered for a moment, then came back to hers. “I would respect your wishes, of course.”
Did he know how much his heated glance sent her pulse racing?
“And I would need to trust you. You’d have to promise not to use that attraction to...” She’d never been a woman who minced words, but this was new territory. “What I mean is, you can’t try persuading me to go outside my comfort zone, even if you see I might be caving. Especially if you see I might be caving.”
Instantly, he removed his arm from around her shoulders.
Already, she mourned the loss.
“Done.” He nodded. All business.
And shouldn’t that be a lesson to her? Gabe McNeill was well versed in sensuality. If he could shut it down that fast, no doubt he could apply it when necessary, as well. She needed to be wary around him.
“Then, if you’re really serious about going through with this—”
“I can have our agreement drawn up by noon. We can apply for a marriage license tomorrow before the offices close for the day. Assuming you retained your U.S. citizenship?”
He was serious all right. She nodded.
“So did I. And New York only requires a twenty-four hour waiting period after we apply, so that makes it simple.”
So for Nana’s sake, she would find a way to make it work.
Before she could second-guess herself, she blurted, “In that case, you have yourself a deal.”
And with one look at his heat-filled eyes, Brianne had the feeling she was in over her head even before she said “I do.”
Four (#u9945bf98-7f25-52d8-b020-e0731532b2bf)
She’d said yes.
An hour later, Gabe had to remind himself of the fact as he peered over at Brianne beside him in the limousine. Her expression was tense. She didn’t look like a woman who had any reason to celebrate as the lights from the bridge flashed on her face while they crossed the East River and headed into Brooklyn. The drive from the airport had been quick thanks to light traffic, and Gabe had sent Nadine and Jason ahead to the apartment in midtown Manhattan in a separate vehicle so the baby could have some rest after the long trip.
Which left Gabe and Brianne alone for this next leg of the journey. Their first trip as an engaged couple.
The drive into Brooklyn’s Bushwick neighborhood was a far cry from how he’d celebrated his first wedding proposal. He’d taken Theresa to Paris to propose over dinner—a romantic night he’d wanted for a woman who adored being romanced. In the long run, what had it meant to her? While he regretted that he hadn’t even given Brianne a ring with his proposal, he still felt relieved that this marriage agreement was nothing like the first one. They both knew what they were getting into. There would be a prenuptial agreement. Clear terms for the future. He’d messaged his attorney’s office from the plane after Brianne agreed to his plan and she’d seemed content to let him make the arrangements.
No one needed to be disappointed. On the contrary, they could both enjoy the peace of mind that came with knowing their interests were well protected. That they were helping one another.
So why did Brianne’s dark expression make her look like she’d just made a deal with the devil?
“Are you okay?” he asked, laying a hand on her arm hidden inside the cashmere wrap she’d worn in place of a jacket.
The clothes were plenty warm for Martinique in February. Not so much for New York. He’d have to see about having a winter wardrobe delivered for her. He wished he could put her at ease, but maybe she was just keyed up about her grandmother. No doubt she was worried.
“I didn’t realize how strange it would feel to come home.” She stared out the limousine window into a dark and silent park as they sped deeper into Brooklyn. “I was so sure I didn’t miss this place, and yet now...” She shook her head. “I have so many memories here. Not all of them bad, though.”
“You’ve never really said why your grandmother sent you away.” He hoped maybe talking would help her relax. Or at least distract her from worrying about her grandmother. He’d called a private health-care service to meet them at the Brooklyn address in case Brianne needed help moving her grandmother. She hadn’t protested when he made the call now that they’d agreed to the marriage deal.
For his part, Gabe was glad to focus on helping her. Maybe that would alleviate the twinge of guilt over how he hadn’t mentioned that a marriage might help him with custody if Theresa decided to revisit the terms they’d agreed to previously.
“My family life was complicated even before my father remarried.” She turned to stare at an all-night diner lit up in bright pink lights. “Then, once he brought Wendy home, I was the odd one out.”
Something her father should have never allowed to happen. Gabe wouldn’t let anyone near his son who didn’t care about the boy. Jason had already been abandoned by his mother.
“You two didn’t get along?” Gabe asked, trying to envision her life as a kid.
Brianne had told him once that her mother had a long-term problem with prescription painkillers and had run off with her dealer when Brianne was only eight, leaving her in the care of a disinterested father. Even then, the grandmother had been Brianne’s role model, the woman who kept her family together.
“Something like that.” She glanced up at the high, neon vacancy sign flashing on a nearby hotel. “My stepmother had a jealous streak. She didn’t see me as a threat when I was nine, and gladly ignored me. But once I hit puberty, she turned vicious if anyone noticed me.”
Defensiveness for the girl she’d been had him straightening in his seat. He was angry on her behalf.
“Vicious how?” he asked, keeping his voice even. “Did she hit you?”
“No. Not quite.” She pivoted her shoulders toward him, dragging her attention from the window. “Some shoving once or twice. Mostly, she raged at me to keep my, um, breasts to myself while trying to wrench my too-small clothes around me to cover more.” She shook her head, dragging weary fingers through her thick waves. “A real class act.”
And Brianne had been just a kid. Damn.
His hand found her wrist, and he squeezed gently.
“No wonder your grandmother wanted you out of there.” He hated to think about an adult manhandling her like that when she was a child. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”
“I’ve heard Wendy is on medication now for some of her issues.” She crossed her legs, her foot swinging with the motion of the limousine as it made a sudden stop for a red light. “She was taking reasonable care of Nana and helping out with the rent up until a couple of months ago.”
He sincerely hoped he didn’t run into the woman who’d treated Brianne that way.
“Where’s your father these days? He doesn’t participate in caring for his family?” Gabe would trade almost anything to have his mom back. Losing her to cancer while he was a teen had devastated him far more than when his father quit showing up.

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